


Silk and Roses

by naiad (iamnaiad)



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnaiad/pseuds/naiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it seems that if he can't end an evening with water rushing over his head and down his skin, then he'll never be clean again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk and Roses

_"Girls that wore pink  
And boys that wore blue,  
boys that always grew up better men  
than me and you."_

 

Earlier, this had been what Joey wanted, but now that he's secluded in a stall it feels like a lie, a cheat. The girl pressed in next to him – he doesn't even remember her name, Karen maybe - is a fan. Her eyes have a sheen and her mouth a little twist that tell him she expects this to be one of the greatest moments of her life. She's going to have sex with 'Joey Fatone' and he just wishes there was fresh air.

Karen smiles up at him and Joey grins in return before turning her around. When her back is settled against his chest, they both release a quiet sigh. Joey holds her to him with an arm around her waist, his thumb poking underneath her tight, sparkly top. The outer door opens and Joey listens as heels click across the tiles. They're in the women's bathroom because, according to MaybeKaren, urinals kill the mood. He runs a hand up her inner thigh. Her skin is soft and smooth, but it's nothing special, nothing new.

The woman that came in shuffles her feet. Joey can hear paper rustling as his hand is guided under MaybeKaren's skirt. No underwear. He glides the tips of his fingers back and forwards over her slick skin. It's nice, but his head isn't in the game. There's a flush, a door bangs and a tap runs. The heels click on their way out.

Joey pulls MaybeKaren closer, but not too close. It wouldn't be good publicity for Joey to go from 'ladies man' to 'limp man'. He increases the rhythm and pressure and she grinds back against him anyway. His body responds, thankfully, even as his brain is screaming at him to push her away. Joey drops his forehead onto her shoulder and closes his eyes. If he can't ignore the sounds echoing through the bathroom, at least he won't have to deal with the lighting. MaybeKaren writhes against his hand, pushing for more pressure. He ignores her and slips two fingers inside, teasing slowly. Her breath catches and the noise it makes when she releases it is harsh, animalistic. Someone else enters. Two – he can hear them laughing, but can't understand what they're saying.

Joey withdraws his fingers. He wants to finish it. MaybeKaren whimpers a little, but stops as he moves fingertips over her. When he finds what he's searching for, he increases the pressure and once again sets a quick, steady rhythm. The back of her head drops onto his shoulder. Her body begins shaking against him. He isn't interested anymore and he can only hope she doesn't notice. Joey maintains his rhythm. The people who came into the bathroom leave again. They didn't use the toilets, just sniffed loudly and ran the tap. Coke, probably. Joey wonders if he knows them.

MaybeKaren is close. She is twitching beneath his fingers and the brace of her body against his tells him she's fighting it, drawing it out. Joey doesn't stop or even slow down, he just tightens his arm in preparation to support her weight. She shakes a little. Her breath hitches and he's holding her off the floor. A moment passes. More people enter and music rushes in as they hold the door open – a group then. MaybeKaren reaches for him, but Joey pushes her away gently and straightens off the wall. She turns to face him, the question clear on her face. Joey leans in to kiss her before she can speak. He makes it gentle and her hands cling at his shoulders. When he ends it, he smiles down at her and says, "Thanks sweetheart. That was fun." She beams at him and tries to speak again, so he touches a finger to her mouth and ignores the way her tongue slips out to taste him. "I have to get back."

Joey squeezes past her and out through the stall door. He walks to the nearest basin, pumps some soap into his hand and turns the tap. From the corner of his eye he can see three girls watching. They're huddled together and he knows they're whispering about him under the cover of the running water. MaybeKaren will have a waiting audience when she emerges. Joey waves his hands under the drier before swiping them against his pants and pushing past the door, back into the club.

Chris is still propped against the bar when Joey rejoins him. Lance is nowhere to be seen. He leans in close to Chris's ear. "I'm leaving."

Chris smirks at him and attempts a drunken wink. "The Ladies too romantic for you?"

Joey just grins and lets Chris assume he's taking MaybeKaren home, or going to JC's. It's neither, but sometimes Joey thinks the easiest way to deal with Chris, or anyone really, is to let them think what they want. That way, he can do what he wants. He smiles at Chris again and slaps him on the shoulder. "Tell Lance to behave."

Chris laughs and Joey begins to weave through the crowd towards the exit.

*

The house is quiet. Joey exhales in relief as he closes the door behind him. No one else is home; he can feel it. He hadn't expected anyone to be there, but plans change, things get crazy. The bedroom calls, a tiny current of energy that climbs his groin. There's plenty of time, yet. He doesn't want to rush.

Joey toes off his sneakers, leaving them after him when he walks to the bar. The scent of whiskey fills his nose as he opens the bottle and pours a measure into his glass. It's warm on his tongue and he's savouring the alcoholic burn in his throat when the urge to be clean becomes overwhelming. Cigarette smoke and sweat are clinging to his skin and it prickles in irritation. He carries the drink with him and quickly sheds his clothes into a pool on his ensuite floor.

When he emerges from the steam, it is centred and calm. Hot water pounding into his skin is cathartic and taking a long shower has become a post night out ritual. Sometimes it seems that if he can't end an evening with water rushing over his head and down his skin, then he'll never be clean again.

Joey rubs a hand across his stomach and pushes the towel from his hips. He'd like to shave. Or wax, maybe. Just once, he'd like to do this properly and be free of the hair growing across his body, but it would be too hard to explain away. Justin could do it, so could Lance and probably JC. If he or Chris tried, the first time they wore short pants or sleeves they'd be labelled freaks. Bigger freaks. Joey picks the towel up from the floor and flings it into the bathroom. Then he closes the door. If he can't see it, he doesn't have to think about it, and everything he needs is in his bedroom.

The closet door is open – waiting. Joey walks in, all the way to the back. In the chest of drawers tucked against the wall beside his shoes, is everything he needs. He opens the first drawer and a hint of rose drifts out. The smell reminds him of home, of his mother's and Janine's closets - it's a time machine. He dips his hand into the drawer and presses it against the soft fabric. A hum vibrates underneath his skin. Joey adores silk stockings - they rank with music, Broadway and Superman. His collection is comparable, too. He pulls a pair from the drawer, draping them around his neck as he pushes the drawer closed and reaches for the next.

Savouring the rest of his choices would be a mistake. There's a tingle sliding across his skin already and his chest is tight – he can't be too excited too soon. It will spoil the night. With the rest of his selection dangling across his arms, he closes the closet door. He touches the stereo as he walks past and smiles when Marlene Dietrich's husky voice purrs from the speakers. He takes a deep breath and begins to lay his clothes out on the bed.

The stockings are first. Tiny strips of black against the blue of his bed. Next to them belongs the garter belt – vintage black silk with tiny red roses embroidered along the bottom. They're part of a set and Joey lies the matching slip next to it. He spreads the slip with a palm and smiles. He bought it from another collector and it has been worth every last cent. Joey runs a thumb over the roses at the neckline. Despite its age, the thread still feels like satin next to the velvety silk. One last brush of his hand and he smoothes the slip flat. Finally, he places the black French panties beside the slip. They don't belong to the set, but he's matched them as closely as possible.

Joey straightens and looks at his display. It is, they are, beautiful. His dick begins to swell and he imagines that he can feel the blood rushing through his veins.

Stepping away, Joey turns to the drawer beside his bed and pulls out a comb. He runs it through his damp hair, parting it in the middle and pushing it back like a 30's matinee idol. When he's done, he returns the comb and takes out the lube. He places it carefully on the bedside table. It won't be needed for a while yet, not until he's undressed again, but he won't want to think about it later.

Joey brushes his hands along his bare arms and thighs. The hairs are standing on end and he feels like he's bathed in static electricity. It's time. He starts humming softly.

Reaching for the panties, Joey is careful not to touch anything else. He steps into the legs and draws them up slowly. The fabric caresses his skin, tantalising his body with a whispered kiss. His dick fills a little more and Joey breathes deeply, trying to temper his arousal. He lifts the garter belt and, unable to help himself, runs it along his cheek. At least he can shave his face. Joey slips the belt on and adjusts it over his panties until the lines are as smooth as they can be. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his sense of touch and hearing take over. Marlene is only a growl in the background; his skin is on fire. He's half hard and he doesn't want to sit on the bed, but there's no choice.

Joey sits, careful not to disturb anything. He picks up the first stocking and the delicate scent of roses fills his mind. Gently placing one hand inside, he uses the other to bunch up the stocking and then hooks it with his thumbs. He lifts his foot, double checks the toenails and slips it into the toe. The heat between his legs is incessant. Joey pauses. He adjusts the seam to the back of his calf and begins pulling the stocking up his outstretched leg. It has to be done in increments – he's stopping and straightening the seam and inhaling deeply at regular intervals. When the stocking is as high as he wants it, Joey reaches for the garter clips and begins to attach them.

A shuffling noise penetrates his concentration. He stops humming and looks up.

*

"Hey." JC is framed by the doorway, his left hand twisted in the bottom of his t-shirt.

Joey looks down again, closing the last garter clasp onto his stocking. "Hi." He runs the clasp under his thumb nail, the edge digging softly into his skin. "I didn't think I'd see you tonight."

"Yeah. Um…. I wasn't going to, but, um, then it wasn't really happening. We could have worked through it, but, Dallas…. Yeah. He needed a break and a ride. So."

Translation – they weren't getting anywhere and everyone else needed a break. JC might be happy to spend every night in the studio, but not everyone felt the same way. Joey wondered when JC had last left the studio voluntarily. He wasn't sure, but it wasn't recent. "Right."

"I went to the club. Chris said you'd left already."

There's a question under JC's voice and Joey forces himself to ignore it. He only has himself to blame for it being there in there in the first place. Joey looks at JC again. He hasn't moved, but his eyes are darting around the room.

"There's no one else here."

"Gone already?" It's more statement than question and JC's hands are clenched into fists against his thighs.

"Yes. No." Joey traces a hand over the silk slip sitting beside him on the bed - the fabric catching slightly on patches of rough skin on his palm. He sits for a moment, disappointment clouding his mind, and then flicks open the first clasp. "There was never anyone here."

"Kel? Bri?"

Joey's beginning to think that JC is going to stay in the doorway for the rest of the night. "At Kel's folks. She's started doing that when I'm town." JC makes a small noise, but Joey ignores him. He should have known, Joey's hinted at it more than once. Joey keeps himself occupied by flicking open all of the clasps. When he starts pushing off the first stocking, JC speaks again.

"Don't. Don't stop dressing. It's hot." There's a pause. "I mean…. You enjoy it and I. Fuck, Joe. It really turns me on."

Joey glances at JC, sees him walking into the bedroom. "JC." He doesn't know whether it's a warning or a question. It's not that he doesn't want to have sex with JC, but he's not sure he wants it now, this way.

JC sits on the bed. Close enough for Joey to feel warmth radiating from his body. "Let me watch, Joe. Please?"

JC's fingers slide across Joey's back, teasing at the edge of his panties. There's a familiarity in JC's touch. Joey can predict which direction his hand will move - how his fingers will caress Joey's skin. Joey's pulse quickens against his will. "Okay. Just. You need to move back." Gesturing at the foot of the bed, Joey says, "Sit there. Don't talk."

Sitting with his eyes closed, metal digging into his thumb, Joey feels JC shift. When the bed stops moving, he resumes sliding the stocking along his leg – relishing the slide of silk over his skin and the way his legs hairs are rearranged to settle under the fabric. He pulls it close to the garter clips and re-attaches them. Not looking at JC, Joey gathers up the second stocking and starts humming again.

Joey bunches the stocking, pokes his toe in, extends his leg and pulls. He clips on the garter and stands. Beneath the bed are his Mary-Jane shoes. He keeps them there permanently, ready to be slipped on when time is limited and he needs a break from it all. After stepping into the shoes, he lifts each foot to the bed, one at a time, and fastens the straps. JC gasps behind him and Joey feels him move closer.

"Joey." His cheeks are flushed.

Joey glances down at JC's crotch. He has the heel of a hand pressed heavily against his dick. Joey looks back to JC's face. His eyes are gleaming and Joey feels pinned. The expression on JC's face is reminiscent of the beginning, when JC would just look at Joey before one of them dragged the other to the nearest dark corner. It had been so urgent and intense. He wants to kiss JC now. Pull him in and relive everything.

"Shh," he says, and steps back.

JC sucks a breath between his teeth, but he stays where he is and doesn't say any more.

Joey closes his eyes. The throb reveberating through his body is pushing him near the edge. He wants to fuck JC. He wants to fuck him so that JC's aware of it for days and days – aware of Joey imprinted all over him. Joey gazes at the slip lying on the bed. His dick pulses beneath his panties and he reaches for the slip. He holds it in his hands for a moment. The velvety fabric thrills his skin and he is centred again. This is what he wanted, to feel beautiful and sexy. He puts his head and arms into the slip and lets it fall down his body.

The silk is cool at first, but it soon begins to warm up with heat from his skin. He strokes his sides, pressing the slip between his hands and torso. The temptation to slide his hands back under the slip and into his panties is immense. His dick is screaming to be touched, but he wants to wait – to spend some time encased in silk and roses.

Hands slip around Joey's waist, sliding underneath his arms and down his stomach. JC kisses the back of Joey's neck and he moans involuntarily. "JC…."

"Not being able to touch you was killing me." JC is pulling the slip up now, skimming it slowly along Joey's thighs. "You're fucking incredible, you know? Teasing me like that." The slip is gathering under JC's palms; Joey can feels the folds of fabric against his belly. "I want to fuck you, Joe." JC pushes one hand into Joey's panties and curls it around his erection. Joey feels as though his nerve endings are pushing through his skin. It burns.

"You really took your time," JC says. "I don't think I could have lasted much longer if you hadn't finished then."

Closing his eyes, Joey concentrates on the tiny movements of JC's hand. He's not capable of speech, he doesn't know what to say that won't destroy everything. Joey turns, forcing JC to release his grip, and kisses him. JC responds eagerly, drawing Joey's tongue into his mouth.

They kiss for what feels like a long time. Joey's lips are being bruised and he knows he is doing the same to JC. He leans into JC, pressing harder, biting at his lips. JC has pulled Joey's slip up his back and is running his hands along the length of Joey's back and into his pants. Joey has one hand buried in JC's hair and the other on his ass, holding them together. JC grinds against Joey's hip and Joey loosens his grip to step back slightly.  
"Careful, 'C."

JC nods slightly and steps in to kiss his way down Joey's neck. He loves this and JC knows it. His side feels like melted syrup, warm and liquid, and his knees are a little weak. JC's hands are pushing at the his panties, now. They slide past Joey's dick and ass, but that's where they stop. JC pushes again and Joey catches his hands.

"I want them off." JC licks at the shell of Joey's ear when he speaks. It tickles and Joey can't help smiling.

"Let me do it." JC stops tugging at the panties, but stays in Joey's personal space. Joey can feel the energy vibrating from JC as he releases the garter clips and lets the panties fall to the floor. He starts to push the stockings off, but JC grabs his wrist.

"Leave them on." JC slips to his knees and slides his hands up the stockings. They feel rough through the silk, but the movement is gentle. Joey's pulse starts to echo around his body, the central beat coming from his dick. JC refastens some of the clips and then turns Joey around. His hands are hot as he holds them still against Joey's thighs. It's quiet for a moment and the music reasserts itself in Joey's consciousness. He's seconds away from asking what JC is doing when a wet warmth runs up the back of his leg. JC is licking along the seams. He does the other leg, slipping a hand through to cup Joey's balls and Joey very nearly buckles when JC begins to suck at the skin where his ass joins his thigh. Joey didn't even know that spot was so sensitive.

Heat flushes through his body as JC starts to massage his balls and nip at his thigh. Joey's legs do collapse under him when JC spreads Joey's ass and slips his tongue inside. JC catches him before he falls too far. He pulls Joey down then, and manoeuvres him until he is kneeling on the floor with his belly resting on the bed. Joey's body is thrumming. He wants to see JC, so he twists his head around. All he can see is JC's arm hooking onto Joey's back as he opens Joey with his tongue.

After that, Joey can barely think. He's aware only of quivering muscles, warmth and wetness, and a hand pressing firmy against the small of his back.

JC licks and sucks and pushes, and Joey feels everything building inside him. He's vaguely aware that his slip has bunched around his armipits and he has a second of relief before he comes between his stomach and the bed. Joey's body feels hollow, insubstantial, and he lets himself sink into the bed.

There's a noise behind him – rustling and a kind of clanking. Everything is a little hazy, but he understands when JC's slick fingers press inside him. Joey groans quietly as JC quickly replaces his fingers with his dick and enters Joey steadily. JC pauses when he's inside. Joey feels a hand run reverentially over his back and the fuzziness of JC's thighs pressing against his own.

JC exhales forcefully and starts to move. He sets a steady yet irregular rhythm – deep, shallow, deep, shallow. Joey's body is flushing and pulsating in a drive to be aroused again. JC is breathing heavily. Moments after each exhalation, Joey releases a breath of his own. They overlap ever so slightly. JC's hands are holding Joey's hip tightly now, as if he'll never let go, and Joey rocks vaguely as JC evens the rhythm and increases the pace. He's only pushing deeply now. Joey can feel him everywhere.

JC's breath catches in several tiny hitches. He pulls Joey back tightly even as he pushes himself forward. Joey feel the shudder pass through JC as he comes and accepts the weight when he falls across Joey's back.

For several minutes, it's a frozen tableau. Neither of them moves, they stay connected. Then JC withdraws and Joey crawls onto the bed. As he shifts up, he's careful to wipe his stomach against the bed before adjusting his slip down. JC climbs up nest him, stretching along Joey's side. He throws one leg over both of Joey's and leans in for a brief kiss before resting his head on Joey's shoulder. They lie in silence, listening as the cd loops back to the beginning.

It's maybe ten minutes later when JC gets up and starts reaching for his underwear and jeans. He glances back at Joey, still sprawled on the bed. "I have to get back to the studio. I'm sorry, Joe, but this idea isn't letting go of me and I have to get it down. It could be the breakthrough we need on this track."

Joey smiles, but doesn't answer. JC is dressing efficiently, his movements brisk and assured. He doesn't usually disappear just after sex, but Joey's not surprised he's leaving. Joey runs a hand over his slip, straightening it. On the second stroke, he discovers a wet spot. His fingers are probing it when JC leans over him and presses a quick kiss to his forehead.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure." Joey watches JC, sees him pause in the doorway.

"Joe?" JC's face is almost blank. There's no expression at all and Joey recognises it as his pre-interview face.

"Hmm?"

JC takes half a step back towards the bed, then stops. "Nothing. Just. I love you."

Joey believes him, knows that it is true, but the pain shoots through his chest anyway. "I love you too, JC," he says quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Standing still, JC pauses for a second before vanishing down the hall. Joey gazes at the empty space and then inspects the spot on his slip. It's come. Come…and lube - on his vintage black silk. He heaves himself off the bed and tugs the slip over his head, tossing it to the side. It lands on the panties.

Joey's still wearing his stockings, garters and shoes. He glances down and straight back up. There's going to be a problem, he's sure of it. Closing his eyes, he flops back onto the bed and takes his shoes off blind. They seem fine. He drops them to the floor. With his eyes still closed, he feels along his left leg; twisting his hands around the stocking until he reaches the top. It's perfect and he begins on the right leg. Half way up, his eyes fly open. There's a run. Joey traces it with a fingertip and wonders when it happened. It stretches right to the top. He wants to scream, but instead just releases a strangled moan. His panties, his slip, his stockings…all wrecked.

Joey pushes the stockings down to his ankles and toes them off completely. He kicks them up, aiming for the rumpled pile of black silk. They flail into the air, hang for a tiny second and float back onto Joey's feet. Growling, he stands and drags his feet over to the slip and panties. Pushing the stockings onto the pile, Joey tears the garter belt off and drops that as well.

He looks at the puddle of fabric lying at his feet. It would be soft beneath his hands; delicate when draped over his body. There should be a hint of roses in their scent. Instead there are rips and the smell of sex. Joey scoops the pile into his hand. He takes a deep breath and pushes the bathroom door open. The towel he used earlier is still lying on the floor. Closing his eyes, Joey throws his silk towards the towel and shuts the door.


End file.
